


when the smoke clears and i see you there

by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale



Series: [reasons to survive] [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Multi, Things get real, but there's lots of smooching and cute moments too, characters get injured pretty bad, lots of clouis, mitch deals with gross feelings, so like... it kind of balances out?, twdg otp challenge from tumblr, twdgotpchallenge, willy still doesn't know how to knock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale/pseuds/stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale
Summary: [part of the #twdgotpchallenge I started on Tumblr!]A collection of short stories of our favorite OTPs within the [reasons to survive] AU.
Relationships: Aasim/Ruby (Walking Dead: Done Running), Clementine/Louis (Walking Dead: Done Running), James (Walking Dead: Suffer The Children)/Mitch (Walking Dead: Done Running)
Series: [reasons to survive] [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1287371
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. [come back in one piece, okay?]

**Author's Note:**

> i. first kiss  
> [a jamitch short story]

The scent of smoke still burns within his nostrils when Mitch stirs awake, the world nothing but a haze obscuring the familiarity of his bedroom. 

Perhaps he’d panic if he were more conscious, jerk upwards and search for any remaining flames enveloping his home, run out to find Willy and the others, hack and cough his way through the suffocating black smoke. **  
**

No, any trace of strength within his body has diminished, so all he does is lay there.

Weak, wounded, and breaking free of what feels like a comatose state, Mitch cranks his neck, turning his head to the side. He regrets the action immediately. Sweltering pain illuminates his shoulder blade, tearing up through his neck and to the back of his head. A heavy wince builds in his throat as he grits his teeth, fingers curling in the sheets wrapped around him painfully tight. The beat of his heart vibrates through his flustered cheeks, shaking his entire body. 

“Hey,” a soothing voice says just as cold fingers brush back his matted hair. “It’s okay. Don’t move.”

Mitch grunts, leaning into the cool touch. He squints, blinking watery eyes to try and see through the dimly lit room, and as he does so, he begins to make out the features of James’ face beside him. 

“James…” Mitch sighs, relaxing against the pillow, lifting a hand to grasp James’ wrist. “You’re okay…”

“You’re finally awake,” James grins. “How do you feel?”

“Shit-” Mitch groans, tightening his grip on James. “-shitty.” 

“We got the bullet out. You can heal properly now.”

“Bullet...”

At first, Mitch stares up at him, processing the words before everything floods back in one big wave. The fire, the blood, gunshots, screams-

“Hey, hey-” James pushes him back down, doing everything he can to be gentle while still keeping Mitch from leaping out of bed. Not that he really could, not with a fucked up shoulder, a head injury, and a wounded leg. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Mitch’s never been shot before. He’s been stabbed, but only accidentally and of his own fault. He’s broken an arm, broken his nose, and even suffered a concussion when he was just a kid after a game of flag football when haywire.

Within their fifteen years into the end of the world, guns were never truly a threat among them until Clementine and AJ showed up, each packing heat. Then there was the delta and their arsenal of firearms, something the group collected themselves upon their victory against those sick fucks. 

Between then and now, Mitch has learned the proper ways to hold a gun, how to shoot it, and when to shoot it. 

Never once did he think he’d be on the receiving end of a bullet. 

It happened just like that. 

He was standing there, tongue-tied, pissed off, and damn near ready to scream. 

Then he was on the ground clutching his bleeding shoulder, an explosion of white-hot pain rippling through his flesh, cursing as James dragged him towards the couch for cover from several following bullets. 

Then came the shattering glass and flames, more gunshots and Clementine- he’s pretty sure it was her- screaming for everyone to get inside. 

It’s all chaos after that.

“Don’t,” James warns, brows furrowed with concern. Mitch hates that look. James continues, “If you move like that, you’ll tear your stitches.”

“The school,” Mitch says. “Everyone- where are they? Are they okay?”

James hesitates.

“They’re alive,” he finally says. “Mostly injured, but alive.”

“And those fuckers?”

“Two got away. The rest…” James trails off. 

“Dead?”

“...Yes.”

“Good. Fucking hell.”

“We’re going after the two who ran off,” James says. “Clementine, AJ, Omar, Violet and I.”

“That’s it? Bigger group-” Mitch winces, shifting,”- needs to go.”

James says nothing but averts his eyes. 

Staring up at him, something sours in Mitch’s gut, acid bubbling up to his throat and for a moment, he thinks he’s going to hurl, choke on his own vomit. 

He gags, heaving. James is quick, carefully helping his sit up while stuffing pillows behind his back and head.

“What-” Mitch coughs, blood tingling his tongue, “-how bad? How bad is everyone? Willy? Ruby-”

_Ruby._

“Fuck, Ruby-!”

“Mitch, stop, please.”

“You said- you said everyone’s alive so-”

“Ruby _is_ alive,” James stresses. “But… it’s bad. Maybe not as bad as we thought at first, though. The burns on her arm are the worst, but Aasim said the burns on her side aren’t nearly as bad. He’s staying behind to look after her and Louis.”

“Louis?”

“He’s hurt bad, too,” James admits. “Broken nose, and his hand…” 

“What?” Mitch squeezes James’ wrist. “ _What_?”

“It’s in rough shape. He’s staying behind, too.” 

James doesn’t further explain. Mitch’s mind races to every dark place possible, and before he can pry further, James forces a smile. 

“Willy’s been watching over you,” he says. Reaching down, he grabs a bottle of water, offering it to Mitch before digging into his pocket to produce painkillers. “He cleaned your wound and helped me get the bullet out. I sent him to get some rest so that he can stay with you when we’re gone.” 

“When?” Mitch asks, grimacing at the bitterness of the pill on his tongue as he sips the water. A wave of heat crashes over his dampened skin when he shifts up again, straining his shoulder terribly before James stops him with a grasp of his sweaty shoulder. The contact makes Mitch all the more aware of his current state; shirtless with numerous bandages wrapped around his shoulder and torso, damp hair clinging in a mess against his forehead, yellow bruises dancing along his flesh. 

If his entire being wasn’t fucked up at that moment, embarrassment might’ve settled in. No doubt he’s as gross as ever now, but whether due to the pain medications or the overall comfort he finds in James’ presence, he can’t pinpoint.

James doesn’t seem to care, regardless, unafraid of touching Mitch’s forehead again to cool the burning flesh there. Those dark eyes hold nothing but a deep concern that makes Mitch’s heart race and his stomach twist. 

“In about an hour,” James says. “Clementine wants to make sure everyone’s safe here while we’re gone. Just in case, you know. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, but... we’ll find them.”

There’s dried blood on his chin, Mitch notices, pondering on if that’s his blood or not. Maybe it’s the blood of those fuckers who broke in, shot Mitch at the worst possible moment, threw a fucking molotov cocktail at Ruby and Aasim and at their home, nearly burning down a good chunk of it- God, he hopes that’s their blood. 

He considers asking, but instead, what comes out is, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

James’ brows raise, surprised. He replies, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Made myself an easy target, didn’t I?” Mitch scoffs bitterly. “If I had known some asshole had their scope on me, I would’ve kept my voice down. Or moved it inside.”

James doesn’t say anything for a long time, but his thoughts are plenty loud, Mitch thinks. He waits for the burning question to come to fruition, waits for James to finally ask him the question that started their whole fight in the courtyard again. 

He doesn’t.

“I was scared it might’ve been too bad,” James says quietly, rubbing at his eyes. “You passed out and I... It’s a miracle we all made it- that _you_ made it.” 

“Gonna take more than a bullet,” Mitch says. 

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“A few inches over and you’d be dead, Mitch.”

“But I’m not.”

James holds his stare, biting his lip. Mitch can see his chin quiver, and he hates it. 

“We were reckless,” James says. “We should’ve known that man wasn’t by himself, that he had a group. I should’ve made sure he didn’t go back and-”

“Don’t do that shit,” Mitch interrupts. “You’re gonna do nothing but piss yourself off.”

“I-” James stops, squeezing his eyes shut. “I... I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to ever kill again but... after what those people did to us, to _you_ and Ruby and Louis and I just- I-”

Mitch doesn’t say anything, far too focused on the way James’ mouth sputters perturbed thoughts. 

“This is my home now, and my family. I can’t let the people I love get hurt like this. I won’t... not again.”

Without a thought, Mitch presses a hand against the side of James’ face, his thumb running along his cheekbone. 

James grips his wrist in return, murmuring, “I’m sorry. You need to rest, and I need to meet with Clem and the others-”

Mitch’s thumb drifts down to press against James’ lips, silencing him, causing him to stiffen with confusion, or maybe anticipation. 

For once, Mitch doesn’t really care. Either way, James sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, wets it with his tongue, then releases it- _that’s_ what does it.

“Come back in one piece, okay?” Mitch tells him, hand slipping from James’ cheek to wrap around to the back of his head, jerking him forward. 

Mitch doesn’t care about the mind-numbingly pain that shoots through his shoulder with the movement and ignites the angry pain within his body. 

Mitch doesn’t care about the fuzzy voice in his brain telling him to back the fuck up, and he doesn’t care if somehow, somewhere his father is watching over him appalled and disgusted.

Mitch doesn’t care if he has no fucking idea what he’s doing or how gross it is or what happens when it’s over. 

He gives James his answer. 

Mitch kisses him and James kisses him back and everything _hurts_.


	2. [i'm still here and so are you]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ii. hand holding  
> [a clouis short story]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this with a head cold so please forgive any errors

For years, Louis played the song a numerous amount of times, and he played it flawlessly 

The song he wrote in some of his darker days after Marlon’s death, the song he named after the woman he loved with his entire being, the song he played on nights where he couldn’t sleep after a nightmare. 

Fully memorized, both in mind and body- 

Well, at least, he was.

“Fuck-” 

Warmth wets the back of Louis’ eyes as his fingers slip from the keys of his piano. A deep drum of several keys echoes through the music room as he folds his arms over the top, burying his face in his sleeves, wincing. 

His hand throbs. 

_“AJ! Are you hurt-?”  
_

_Bullets pierced the thick wood of the door, followed by several hard kicks. Before AJ could protest, Louis scooped him up and headed for the broken glass doors leading to the balcony. He figured they could both climb down to safety before the door broke down, but they weren’t quick enough._

_The flames and smoke became thicker._

His left hand no longer connected to his brain, he decides. His brain will say, ‘move pinkie finger to C key,’ but nothing happens. Perhaps a twitch of his ring finger, but that’s it. 

His hand refuses to do nothing but ache and bleed. 

_“Louis-!”  
_

_His face cracked upon contact with the man’s fist. Pain exploded through his nose, spreading to his cheeks and watering his eyes, blurring his vision and disorienting him. The man- the one with the beard- hit him again._

_Air escaped Louis’ lungs in a big puff when he fell over the desk, both from the impact and the smoke that flowed in from the hallway. The man cursed behind him, and from the corner of his eye, Louis saw AJ with his hatchet, burying it deep into the man’s thigh._

Somehow, everything is both numb and blistering at the same time, though he figures that’s his own fault for defying Clementine’s orders of not using it until the wound’s fully healed.

Louis runs the thumb of his working hand over the index finger of his broken hand, the sensation fuzzy, pins and needles. 

_The man’s heavy-duty boot collides with AJ’s stomach, sending him onto his back with the hatchet sliding across the floor._

_“AJ!” Louis threw an elbow to get the man off of him. “Get the fuck-”_

_The man retaliated by ensuring Louis couldn’t leave the desk while he went after AJ._

It’s only been three weeks since the gang attacked them, since Clementine, James, AJ, Omar, and Violet went and finished them off.

They’re all still in recovery from the situation, not sure where to start in repairing and rebuilding the school, healing their wounds, both physical and otherwise, and feeling safe again. 

It was the same way after they all got home safely after escaping the delta. While they knew those raiders would never bother them again, they all still felt the fear of “what if.” 

What if a raider survived and came after them? What if Tenn, Mitch, and James don’t come back home? What if Violet had more than a minor head injury? What if Clementine’s leg got infected? What if, what if, what if. 

This attack brought on a handful of more terrifying “what if”’s.

What if Mitch’s wounds and head injury were enough to kill him? What if Ruby never recovered from all of the burns she suffered, even with Aasim by her side? What if there were more than two of those men who escaped? What if someone was still out there, watching and waiting to make another attack?

What if they couldn’t repair the school and everything got worse? 

What if-

_The blade of the knife went straight through Louis’ hand, pinning him to the desk._

_He saw nothing but total darkness and screamed._

What if his hand never healed? 

What happens if Louis can never use his hand again? What if the wound gets infected and they have no choice but to amputate it? 

What if the wound gets infected, they have to amputate it, but by that point, it’s too late and the infection has already reached his heart and it kills him? 

What if it kills him and he turns? 

What if he turns and kills someone? 

_AJ called to him, struggling against the tight grip the man hand on him._

What if none of that happens, but he still can’t use his hand ever again? What if it never heals?

He can’t swing Chairles around like he used to, build traps and hunt to support his family. He can’t properly help rebuild their home. He can’t shuffle his deck of cards properly or braid Clementine’s hair.

He can’t play the song that helped him through some of his darkest hours.

Too much nerve damage.

_Despite his groggy, barely conscious mind and the pain, Louis found himself free from the desk. With the bloody knife in hand, he flung himself towards the man, three of them toppling over._

_The knife plunged through the man’s throat._

His hand trembles. 

_Louis fell to the floor._

_He's bleeding out._

_AJ shook him, sat him upwards, called for help, but Louis was already gone._

Too much damage. 

“Louis?” 

He doesn’t move, remaining still with his head in his arms. 

“Hey, Clem,” he murmurs back. 

Her footsteps creak along the wooden floors as she approaches him from behind, arms moving around his shoulders to hug him. She buries her face in the crook of his neck as Louis leans back into her, accepting the embrace fully, a swell blooming in his chest. 

“I told you not to strain your hand,” she says. It’s not scolding or anything. No, it’s softer and disquiet, unsurprised. 

“Can’t strain it when you can’t move it.”

Clementine hesitates. 

“Still?” she finally asks. “Not even one finger.”

He holds hand in question up, trying to wiggle his fingers the way he used to. 

His thumb barely twitches, but his ring still shines. At least that makes him smile. 

“Nope, which is a shame,” Louis sighs. “Aasim was being a smart ass this morning and I wanted so desperately to flip him off, but alas, I could not.”

“You do have another hand.”

“Not as good.”

“You probably shouldn’t flip Aasim off anyway,” she smiles, pressing a light kiss to his neck. “He’s sensitive.” 

“He’d tattle on me,” Louis agrees. “Then Ruby’d give me a stern talkin’ to.” 

She grins, kissing him again, this time on his cheek. 

“Best not to strain her either.”

“How’s she doing, by the way?” Louis asks. “I mean, really?” 

“I overheard her and Aasim giggling this morning. She’s getting better.”

“That’s good.” 

“It’s late,” she says. “Come back to the dorms with me?” 

Louis presses a couple of random keys, sighing as its song hums through the music room. 

“You go ahead,” he replies. “I’ll meet you there.” 

Clementine loosens her grip on him, but never fully lets go as she moves around the bench. 

“Scooch.”

She squeezes in beside him, on his right, grabbing his hand from his lap and lacing their fingers together. She kisses the back of his wrist. 

“I have something that will cheer you up.” 

“Is that so?” 

She kisses him.

Louis hums, tilting his head to kiss her back. The warmth threatening his eyes is back, so he deepens the kiss by gripping the back of her neck, tilting her with him. 

When they pull apart, Louis forces a frown. It takes a moment before he’s able to open his eyes again. 

“Darling,” he sighs, “as nice as that is, I don’t believe I’m fully cheered up.”

“No?”

“No.” 

“Hmm, well,” Clementine squeezes his hand, the warm metal of her ring pressing into his skin. “Guess I’ll have to do that again.”

“Again, you say?”

“Again,” she grins, inching closer.

“Surely, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Louis.”

“Hmm?”

“Shh.”

Clementine takes his hand again and kisses him. 

They’ve kissed several times in the years they’ve known each other. Some quick and sweet, others lazy, torrid, and some like this. A kiss to say, _‘I’m still here and so are you.’_

Louis kisses her back. 

_‘I’m still here and so are you.’_


End file.
